


The Zen of Target

by piecesofalice



Category: Life
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-18
Updated: 2009-12-18
Packaged: 2017-10-04 12:53:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piecesofalice/pseuds/piecesofalice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for anxietygrrl & jesshelga's call for OTPs Goin' To Target.</p>
    </blockquote>





	The Zen of Target

**Author's Note:**

> Written for anxietygrrl &amp; jesshelga's call for OTPs Goin' To Target.

  
He spotted her in ladies’ wear, coming down the aisle in shoes. Picking up a DVD in electronics, _Beaches_, then putting it down with distain.

  
Stopping in the liquor section, hovering, her hands so obviously wanting to lurch into the shelves and pull out whatever, her eyes burning into the bottles and her ears deaf to the “can I help you” from behind the counter.

  
She turns, and leaves, and walks back to the DVD she left behind, and tucks it under her arm.

  
Charlie smiles, and doesn’t ever let her know he saw her.

  
\---

  
“Why the hell are we going to Target?”

  
“It’s my dad’s birthday.”

  
“And you’re going to buy him something from Target.”

  
“Target is filled with moderately priced home wares that would best suit a man about to enter his second marriage, Reese.”

  
“Huh. A frying pan could work for me right now.”

  
“I’m thinking an electronic pepper grinder.”

  
“Or you could pick the most useless thing in store.”

  
“It grinds the pepper for you.”

  
“Uh huh.”

  
“It has a little motor inside!”

  
“Right.”

  
“You turn it upside down, the motor goes ‘wrrrrr’ then, presto! Pepper is ground with little to no effort from you.”

  
“Fantastic.”

  
“Maybe I’ll get you one.”

  
“Why on Earth would you get me one?”

  
“You seem like you need an electronic pepper grinder.”

  
“Or a frying pan.”

  
\---

  
The car was quiet, as Dani drove towards the station. She wasn’t quite sure she heard him right, until he said it again –

  
_”I need your help picking out some pillows.”_

  
“Pardon?” she managed to blurt out, followed by a hollow sounding “why?”, without driving off the road in shock (which, she admitted, was pretty skilful of her).

  
“Because I don’t have any.”

  
“Okay. Right. Why? And, um, why now?”

  
The answer didn’t come, even when they were standing knee-deep in square-shaped objects, all of which looked like they’d been vomited on by a flower garden or Strawberry Shortcake.

  
Still no answer, when she debated the merits of plain over patterned and blue over black, as Charlie held the colours up to her skin because “it was kind of close to the brown of the couch, sorta”.

  
Nothing, when they ended up in men’s wear, and she made him try on a jacket printed with pinstripes, a hat that could be considered a fedora and a pair of white shoes, and nothing still when they hit the stationary aisle and he watched her like a hawk, with two pillows under each arm that they had somehow chosen together.

  
“You like stationary.”

  
“My dirty secret, Crews.”

  
“Pens or paper?” She hid a smile amongst the A4 copy paper, and let out a disdainful snort for him to hear.

  
“Let’s go, we should get back to the station.”

  
He followed her out through the checkouts, paid with cash and threw her two of the pillows to carry.

  
“Wanna come over and toss them with me?”

  
“Why did we just do this?”

  
And he just smiled, knowing full well she knew why without even trying and she hated him for the smile that was edging at the corners of her mouth.

  
\---

_Fin._


End file.
